


Indie Movie Title Here

by teakturn



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Always Female Stiles Stilinski, Consensual Underage Sex, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friends With Benefits, Good Peter, Light Angst, M/M, Marijuana, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, Recreational Wolfsbane Use, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 13:44:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8626801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teakturn/pseuds/teakturn
Summary: The first time Stiles and Peter have sex it's an accident. And technically, if you really thought about it they didn't even really have sex. It was just a lot of making out with a bit of heavy petting





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the lighter version of my fic Ultraviolence. Both of these fit's deal with Peter and Stiles developing a relationship with one another but Ultraviolence is considerably darker and has an entirely different plot. This is just an idea that's been bouncing around my brain lately and I wanted to try it out and see where it took me. 
> 
> Let me know what you think.

The first time Stiles and Peter have sex it's an accident. And technically, if you really thought about it they didn't even really have sex. It was just a lot of making out with a bit of heavy petting thrown in. And they were both high out of their minds (because apparently being over 30 meant your drugs were better) so judgment for their actions falls solely on good weed and shitty tv.

See, Stiles is an expert researcher (for a seventeen year old) and all her friends are super hot werewolves with a protective streak bigger than the Preserve. So it's not very often that Stiles is allowed to go off after the big baddie of the week with her buddies. Which means more often than she'd like she's left with Peter “Creeperwolf” Hale.

In the beginning she'd put up such a fit, yelling about how unfair it was she got left behind with the guy who tried to kill them all, even going so far as to bring up the twin scars she and Scott shared on their palms. Guilting him hard enough to actually waver on letting her tag along. But stupid Derek _had_ to step up and be Alpha for once and forbade Scott from letting her come along using his alpha voice. 

The rest of the pack was pretty unhelpful. Erica, Boyd, and Isaac didn't even try to go against Derek's orders (mostly cause they liked watching Stiles suffer). Allison and Lydia attempted it once but since Lydia didn't like tagging along herself and Allison was usually their defense. 

Peter pretty much took Stiles’ protests in stride. It was no skin off his nose whether or not Stiles stuck around. He'd take whatever old book he was reading and disappear to….well Stiles assumes he has a room somewhere in Derek’s loft. She can't honestly be sure.

They don't start smoking together until Stiles catches a whiff of the familiar drug wafting off of the former Alpha when he accepts his postmates order. She actually felt kind of hurt, what monster just hordes all their weed to themselves? So she confronts Peter about it and he makes a few jokes about corrupting the Sheriff’s kid which they both know is total bullshit but from that point on he makes sure to include Stiles in his sessions.

She offers, once, to match with him and he laughs in her face. “Sweetheart if I wanted to smoke shitty weed I’d go to the guy you’ve been getting all your stuff from.”

Which, ow, but point. Stiles can’t even argue, she used to get weed from Matt but after that whole psychotic business with the Kanima and him trying to kill her dad they no longer do business together. She has connections with people who can easily front her a fake id but if someone finds it and reports it her dad will be pissed.

Plus she doesn’t like the idea of getting a medicinal card for something that is more of a recreational thing for her. Stiles isn’t naive, she’s fully aware that there are people out there who give zero fucks and will happily abuse the weed legalization to keep themselves flush with Mary Jane, but she’s not one of them.

Although after smoking Peter’s stuff she figures she just might be. She doesn’t know where or how Peter gets his weed but it’s _good_ , beyond good it’s amazing, it’s close to a hallucinogenic it’s so good. She takes three hits from the black and red speckled pipe that Peter has stashed in a compartment somewhere (he won’t let her see because he’s still a dick) and she’s _gone_. The weed goes straight to her head and every movement she makes feels like there’s a ten second delay.

She briefly (very briefly) holds delusions of matching Peter hit for hit, in some stupid bid to impress him after he calls her a Girl Scout, but that one hit makes it pretty clear she is no match for what he brings to the table. He’s been smoking since before she was born so his tolerance is probably impeccable, plus the fact that his wolfy biology makes it difficult for him to maintain a high. His body metabalizes THC so quickly that he has to smoke ganja from the Gods to feel anything at all.

That first night they get high on the roof of Derek’s loft and veg out together. Stiles is still as talkative as ever, the filter between her mouth and her brain is weak when she’s _sober_ don’t even get her started when she’s high. Peter doesn’t say much but she can tell he’s listening just by the way he’ll nudge her when she gets lost on a tangent and trails off.

She still doesn't trust him as far as she can throw him, she still resents being left behind by her friends, but she doesn't quite mind getting high and relaxing for once. With all the craziness going on with her life because of werewolves and banshees and hunters, Stiles hasn’t had as much time as she wants to hot box her room and marathon a few torrented Kdrama’s.

They get high four more times after this with little incident. They don’t always stay on the roof, sometimes they walk around the building letting the wind cool their warm faces, sometimes they compare knowledge or lore with one another. Peter wins more often than not with that one but every now and then Stiles manages to surprise him.

Actual touching and closing the unspoken distance everyone keeps with Peter doesn’t happen until that fourth night. Tonight it’s a body high that has all the sensations nerves in her skin singing. Every rub against Derek’s frankly uncomfortable couch, every accidental brush against the exposed brick on the walls, is a surprisingly new sensation that has Stiles calling for Peter to help her when her mind can’t fully process what her body is telling her.

Peter decides she needs to stay on the couch so he won’t lose her (in response to Stiles saying she feels like she's going to float away) and Stiles decides that couch time means cuddle time. If Stiles was at _all_ in her right mind there’s no way in hell that she’d ever cuddle with Peter. But looking at him, as high as she was that night, something just clicked. 

She’s not blind, she knows that Peter is hot. Peter is downright sinful from the goatee (that she was on the fence about at first but now finds herself getting into) to the way his eyes just trap and captivate you. He’s fit, but in a way that Stiles knows was actual work on his part and not the same wolfy upgrade that Scott and Isaac got with the Bite.

Plus he’s just sitting there, head against the back of the couch, eyes closed, mind focused on _feeling_. He’s practically begging Stiles to curl up and nap all over him.

So she does. With clumsy movements and an attempt at stealth, she moves Peter’s arms so that there’s place for her to fold up practically on his lap. She knows he’s not asleep, Peter would never let his guard down like that for her, so she takes the fact that he’s not resisting as a sign of acceptance. 

Peter waits until she truly settles and is comfortable to ask her in a breathy monotone, “What do you think you are doing?”

Stiles freezes and then giggles, rubbing her cheek against the soft cotton of his shirt, “Cuddling.”

Peter sighs, he’s probably already nearing sober, it’s been an hour since he pulled the weed and the pipe out, “Yes I realize that but why? I didn’t realize that I was giving off the vibe that I was approachable.”

Stiles frowns and sits up to look at his face, “I’m lonely” she says honestly. It’s embarrassing how honest she’s being at the moment, and she expects there to be teasing, maybe even Peter giving her one of his infuriating smirks and saying, “That’s my problem why?” She even tenses in anticipation for her moment of absolute candor to be thrown back in her face, serves her right for giving into her high urges. But Peter strangely relaxes.

“Well alright, but don’t expect this to become habit.”

 

Of course it becomes habit.

 

They develop a kind of...routine. Whenever the next big baddie comes to town (because apparently _Beacon_ Hills was literal) Stiles comes over to research with the group and the rest of the gang goes off to catch it. She only puts up token protests at this point, not even caring to really be angry about being left behind. 

She has a direct line to amazing weed, why would she pitch a fit about not being invited to run around the preserve in the middle of the night? Do you know how much homework she’s caught up on?

But, back to the routine. A baddie comes to town, they’re all like, “We have to save this city.” Stiles provides genius research, they go off to find and capture the big bad (so Scott can ask them nicely to leave the town) while Stiles stays back at the loft. Peter pulls out the weed and the pipe (or bong if he’s feeling generous) and makes small talk while packing the bowl.

“How'd your chemistry test go?”

“Well? I hope so anyway.”

“Did the studying we did together help?”

“Yeah, it did….Thanks.”

“Of course.”

Stiles won’t admit it, but she likes that part of their routine. They’re not high, and no one in their right mind would actually _enjoy_ spending time with Peter, but in the moment leading up to the high he’s actually pretty pleasant. He asks about her schoolwork, asks about volleyball (despite her telling him she’s basically the team mascot at this point), and even asks about her dad.

Once they’ve collectively inhaled enough weed to tranquilize a small bear, it’s Cuddle Time. Stiles always starts it off, although sometimes Peter will yawn and pretend to stretch his arms before opening them in welcome. They’ll cuddle on the couch, Stiles always in Peter’s lap because it was preferable to the monstrosity Derek calls a couch, and then they’ll talk or stream Pride and Prejudice and wait until Scott texts Stiles to tell her everything is copacetic.

It's pretty platonic, startlingly platonic. Peter never tries anything weird. He seems content to let Stiles lay all over him like a cat, and only protests when Stiles is a little less than gentle when adjusting herself on his lap. Things don’t progress until the gang ends up a few miles out of Beacon Hills, stuck in a motel because an Ogre totals Derek’s car and it's raining hard enough that no wants to walk back to town.

Stiles has already told her father she plans on having a sleepover with Allison and Lydia (not a lie because she actually did plan to sleep over Lydia’s house once they all got back) she's still way too high to even think about driving back. Eventually when the time comes for her to decide to stay or go, she decides to stay.

Peter smirks when he sees her bedding down on Derek’s couch. “Oh what do I see here, spending the night are you?”

Stiles can tell he's completely sober, and she feels too high to be a snarky little shit so she opens up with absolutely honesty, “Yeah. Told Dad I’d stay over Lydia’s and with them stuck in that motel until the rain lets up I doubt that’s still happening.”

Peter sighs and rolls his eyes, “So going home isn’t an option because?” Stiles doesn’t really have an answer to that, so she shrugs. If the way he pinches the bridge his nose is anything to go by, Peter fully expected her not to have an answer.

“I’m probably going to regret this,” Peter starts, Stiles smiles at him because she knows exactly what he’s going to offer.

“Oh, creeperwolf, was cuddle time not enough today?” she teases, the playfulness edges on hysteria when Peter’s unamused glare sends her into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

“Just get in my bed before I regret it.” Peter finally cuts in.

There's a bedtime routine, Peter brushing his teeth and the watching her like a hawk while she brushes hers. He throws a pair of boxer briefs at her and a short large enough to be a dress and then leaves her to change while he does….whatever. When he comes back he places her in the bed and cocoons her in the duvet before pulling the sheet over himself and turning out the light.

It's altogether efficient and platonic but Stiles is still _really_ high and not at all in the mood to sit still until she falls asleep. With how tightly Peter has her wrapped up she can't free her arms, so she has to wiggle her way onto her back and then wiggle some more that she's facing him. All her jostling has indeed kept him from getting anywhere near falling asleep but when she finally settles and faces him he's looking at her like he's seconds away from slitting her throat.

“How is it that without even saying a word you've managed to be twice as annoying and cumbersome than usual?” Peter asks with mock levity. Even in the dark she can see his clawed fingers tapping out a rhythm. 

Stiles manages a stifled shrug beneath the blanket, “Talent I guess,” her giggle is unappreciated, if Peters all suffering sigh is anything to go by.

“What will make you settle down and shut up?” Peter inquires, his tone is careful, like he's mentally willing himself not to _make_ be quiet. 

Stiles pretends to actually think her answer through, but the first thing that comes out of her mouth is, “Kiss me goodnight and sing me to sleep?” Again, she's pretty hilarious. To herself anyway.

Only all of a sudden Peter is really close to her, like, _super_ close. His eyes are glowing Beta blue in the dark, and the hand that reaches up to caress her cheek is distinctly declawed and surprisingly gentle. Stiles can feel her stomach clench in anticipation, wondering what he's gonna do and how she's going to react. She feels so sober, all of a sudden and his gentle caress feels wrong without the excuse of being high out of her mind. But she doesn't stop him when he leans in, and pecks her lips. 

Peter pulls away to look at her again, to assess her mood after he crosses the unspoken line between them. Cuddling is fine and all, Stiles cuddles with Scott almost every sleepover. Even now, when Scott's not blowing her off to hang with Isaac or Allison or busy with being a werewolf, they'll cuddle up in her bed and watch tv for hours on end. But they've never kissed, nor even for practice. Their relationship has been simply platonic, barring that failed summer when Scott thought he should have a crush on her because she grew boobs. 

Also, this is _Peter_ , cuddling with him is supposed to be because she's high and she's a naturally touchy feely person. Cuddling with Peter happens because it's not like he tells her not. Plus they both know that werewolf or not, if Peter tried anything she'd come up with a plan to kill his ass all over again.

 _Kissing_ was never something they agreed on, kissing was never something that needed to be discussed because again, this is _Peter_

“Goodnight, princess. Sweet dreams.” Peter hums against her mouth before moving away completely. He turns his back to her and, as far as she can tell, falls asleep immediately. 

Of course after that night, and whole week of panicking and overthinking, things escalate considerably. The next time they get high together (the gang is off chasing around a pack of territorial Sprites who want to call Beacon Hills home) Stiles reinstates the distance that most of the pack puts between themselves and Peter. He merely smirks, but respects her decision. 

She smokes enough to get a buzz but not enough to really get fucked up, and sits all the way on the other side of the room when Peter puts on the movie of the night. It's another romantic comedy, one of the Bridget Jones’. Peter normally has no patience for these, and for a moment Stiles thinks he's apologizing. Looking at his face though, gives nothing away. 

“I kissed you because you asked me to and because you're pretty, intelligent, and funny. There is no ulterior motive.” Peter says as a montage of Bridget getting her shit together begins.

“How about underage?” Stiles spits at him. She's not naive enough to fall for the malarkey most older guys say to pull girls her age. _You're so mature. I feel like I can really be myself with you. You're different from the other girls your age_. 

It's just pretty words to get her guard down. Peter may or may not have been on his best behavior since his resurrection, but the guy is as underhanded and scheming as they come. Which, to be fair, is a lot like Stiles herself. 

“Are you going to tell me that if I forced myself on you it wouldn't lead to a painful, bloody death on my part?” Peter retorts with a smirk.

Stiles shrugs, unwilling to give anything way in such unfamiliar territory. She feels like there's a whole unspoken conversation happening and she's not ready to admit to anything when she doesn't know what she's agreeing to.

“Are you trying to say that if I tried to manipulate you, you wouldn't see right through it?” 

Stiles sighs and runs a hand through her hair. She'll have to get it cut soon, she thinks distractedly. Running around the forest with hair all the way down your back is just asking to get scalped by a tree.

“That's not the issue here.” Stiles finally manages, “Whatever this ends up becoming cannot happen.”

Peter tsks, “Then what is the issue. You're perfectly fine with sitting on my lap while watching tv, perfectly fine with wrapping yourself around me and telling me about the banalities of high school. This next step is too much?”

Stiles gets to her feels in indignation, “I was high then!” She cries, “You can't count shit that we both know I wouldn't do while sober.”

Peter shrugs, “Then let's keep up the pattern. Who says we both have to be sober to want to give one another affection?”

Stiles snorts and crosses her arms across her chest, “It seems like you get a lot more out of this than me.”

“How so,” Peter responds quickly, there's a light growing in his blue eyes, and Stiles can feel her own blazing with enjoyment of the debate they're having.

“Let's see,” Stiles draws nearer, she's practically at the couch now, “Old dude gets to put his hands all over my young, nubile body?”

“Ohh,” Peter croons, “I wasn't aware we we were shooting a porno,”

“You wish buddy,” Stiles scoffs.

Peter laughs, looking fully relaxed as he sinks further into the couch, “You're right I do. Look,” his change in tone catches Stiles attention immediately, “I desire you, I desire the connection you've accidentally given me, and I desire the friendship I see you have with the other pups. If you have to be high to give it to me, then so be it.”

Peter looks earnest, which makes Stiles pauses before asking one last question, “Why me?”

She doesn't mind it when he can't meet her eyes when he says, “I'm lonely.”


End file.
